


All We Have, We Give for the Coven

by MrSpears



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Begging, Blood, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, It doesn't make sense, No Lube, Not nearly enough Myrtle involvement in hindsight, Orgasm Denial, Pegging, Personal Kinks, Pleading, Self-Indulgent, Smut, Weirdness, bratty sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:05:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/pseuds/MrSpears
Summary: Cordelia needs to bring Michael Langdon down a peg, or two. And under Myrtle's instruction, she may just bring that bratty boy down to his knees.





	All We Have, We Give for the Coven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jotunblood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunblood/gifts).



“Cordelia, my darling, I beg you to return to your senses.” Even as she spoke, Myrtle was pulling the long zipper down Cordelia’s spine and relieving the plain, strict black fabric of its duty. Oh, if anything could have been said about Fiona, it was that she at least made an attempt at paying fashion its due. With Cordelia, all hope may have been lost. She simply did not have Myrtle’s sense of style…not that anyone could have made such a claim. It was a shame to see such beautifully sloped shoulders tragically concealed by straight, unflattering seams. In some respects, it was a mercy to peel the fabric away. But to lay her Cordelia, her dear daughter’s flesh bare, knowing what was to come – she simply could not bear it. And yet, she had no choice. 

“It is going to be all right,” Cordelia’s own gentle voice made it clear that she was not going to change her mind. She shrugged her shoulders, allowing the fabric slip down her arms until she could pull it away entirely – sliding the dress down her firm thighs until it pooled at the floor. She stepped out of it – goosebumps pricking at her skin despite the warmth of the room. A shiver traveled all the way up her spine as she cupped her own breasts in her hands, swiping her thumbs over the silky fabric of her plain black bra. 

“I don’t think I can do it,” her voice softened a little further. Myrtle reached out and grasped the bra strap, unsnapping it in the back and allowing it to sag down her shoulders as well. Cordelia took a deep breath and lifted her chin – a somewhat reserved sense of _noblesse oblige_ swelling in her chest and sweeping up towards her face on the tail of a blush. Red as her cheeks may have been, it was not about to be the most humiliating thing she had done for herself; or for her coven. 

Myrtle stepped back, her eyes sweeping over Cordelia in the most clinical fashion before she took her own seat by the fire. She crossed her legs, reaching down to arrange her skirts so that they formed a more attractive shape falling over her knees. Cordelia took a deep breath, as if waiting for a signal, or perhaps only steeling her own nerve. 

Cordelia had never really studied Michael Langdon’s face before. But now she took it all in. His strong jawline that edged an oval face – his shapely yet unconventionally becoming nose was just suited to his almond-shaped eyes, blue as larkspur and set underneath a sweeping brow that managed to maintain a disdainful arch even in repose. His bratty pink mouth was the sort of color that would have been flattered by a bruise and was a little too feminine to hold a stern shape, slipping in and out of a reoccurring smirk that begged for a firm hand. 

“Do you understand why we are here?” Cordelia asked. The brat did not say anything. There was not so much as a twitch on his face. 

“You must understand, at least, that it is not personal.” Myrtle settled a hand against her chest, her words carried on the most delicate of sighs. “My darling Cordelia has far better prospects than you, young man.” 

“It is for the coven.” Cordelia never took her eyes away from the boy. 

“Our lives for the good of the coven.” Myrtle turned her face away from the scene, her fingers trailing through the air, hugged tightly by her lace gloves. “Cordelia, when you are ready, you may step forward.” 

Cordelia did as she was told. She had forgotten to take off her underwear, but she supposed that would come soon enough. The brat was entirely naked, already. Honey skin and golden locks, like an ancient depiction of Apollo. His narrow hips did not look like they could hold her weight. She hoped that her aunt would gauge this situation correctly. She meant to discipline him, subdue him…not break his fragile bones. 

Cordelia stopped just an inch or so away. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin. If she leaned forward, she could have touched noses with him. 

“What now?” She asked, keeping her voice clear and resonant. 

“As loathe as I am to suggest you even soil your hands, you will have to grab his hair.” Myrtle said. “Grip it tight, Cordelia.” 

She had been expecting this. She thought she had been prepared for this. But at the second command, Cordelia felt frozen. Her heart was racing in her throat and the blood roaring in her ears was enough to drown out everything else. She could only see that smile, that sugar pink, absolutely vile…

She closed her eyes, breaking the contact. Drowning in larkspur eyes, subdued by soft sweet lips…it had happened to others, and he hadn’t even opened his mouth yet. Gritting her teeth, Cordelia brought herself back to her sense – enough that she processed the command and her hand lashed out, gripping Michael’s hair, wrapping the brassy strands around her fingers and clutching it close to the scalp. His locks were pulled so taut that she almost felt she could rip them out with the right twist. She was satisfied by the sharp intake of breath that went through his nose, and she tugged for good measure – his head going back with the gesture, his neck bowed and his Adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed. 

The first sign of nerves. As far as she was concerned, she had already won. There was no sense in letting that show. 

“Now, I…” 

“On your knees.” Cordelia’s voice cut Myrtle’s off mid-sentence. Her aunt stopped speaking, only marginally offended at not having her instructions heeded. 

Langdon winced as her grip on his hair tightened. He tried to wrench away, but that only made it worse. She could feel a few of the individual hairs popping loose, breaking in her fingers. She pictured a fistful of them spiraling towards the floor whenever she let go. 

“No,” he said. His first words since the session began, and they were open defiance. 

Cordelia felt something tighten inside of her chest, like a coil or a rubber band being stretched too taut. A seed of white-hot temper she had never been able to stamp out of existence entirely. Something leftover from Fiona, perhaps. Or just one of her own moral failings. 

She pulled her hand back, releasing his hair. She brought her open palm down across his cheek, leaving behind a stunning red mark vivid enough to be a gash. His startled blue eyes arrested hers, and she saw a dozen different emotions slide across them at once. Rage. Defiance. Trepidation. Arousal. 

He could not settle on one. His entire face went blank again – but it was a different sort of blank. It was no longer guarded. Rather, it was lost. 

If one slap was all it took to send him into subspace, then Cordelia may have gotten ahead of herself, asking Myrtle to be here – thinking he would be a threat. 

A smile slid across his lips, spreading the corners of his mouth attractively. “Is that all you’ve got?” 

Her own cheeks flushed – she blamed the heat of the fire, of the moment. Without hesitation she brought her hand down across his other cheek. Another bright mark – and he reached up to touch it, sliding his rounded fingertips down the line of his cheekbone, over the tender skin. 

“Well,” he said, his voice a soft rush of air skating over his split bottom lip. “I almost felt that.” 

Cordelia’s lips parted, her blonde brow furrowing – and at first, she had no words. He was enjoying this. He desired this. He would have fought by now, surely, if it were otherwise. 

“On your knees.” She said again, a ringing note. And then she lowered her voice, closing the last of any distance between them – until her breasts were pressed up against his chest. “I will not ask again.” 

He stood there for a moment, still, before making the slow descent; sinking to his knees and looking up at her with those deceptively innocent blue eyes. He wrapped his arms around her legs, sliding his hands over the back of her calves. She hated the chill that pricked at the back of her neck. Hated at how the sight did not entirely repulse her. 

“I am yours,” he said, and that smile found its way back to his lips. She pursed her lips. 

“Auntie Myrtle,” she said. “I think I am ready.” 

“Of course, my darling.” Myrtle reached down into the black Prada bag slung over the back of her chair like some common knapsack. Her fingers looped around stiff black straps that she then tugged from the petal pink lined depths, sturdy purple silicone dangling garishly from a triangle of leather. She stood, a single graceful motion as she brought it closer to her dear Cordelia, extending one hand and letting it balance on the very end of her fingertips. 

Cordelia hesitated, almost uncertain of whether she could put it on herself. She wanted to ask Myrtle for help, but it only lasted a moment. She nodded her thanks, giving her aunt a warm smile before slipping her own fingers underneath the straps, looking down at the boy resting at her feet. 

“Help me with this,” she commanded him. Myrtle moved back to her chair, and Langdon reached up with both hands – palms outturned to accept the offering. Cordelia rested the strap-on in his hands, and Langdon wrapped his fingers around the heavy base. He turned it around and arranged the straps – Cordelia stepped in through the appropriate leg holes, and he slid it up her thighs – resting the silicone base right above her clit- enough so that any jostling would rub it downward. He tightened the straps around her waist and legs, his fingers making quick work of it before he settled back down at her feet, looking up again. 

“I will lube it for you, if you’d like.” He suggested with a catty flick of his pink tongue. 

“Shush,” Cordelia said. “You act as if I intended to give it to you.” 

Something real jumped onto his face, then. It made his brow twitch, and a little frown tugged at his smug, smiling mouth. He looked down, and then he flickered his blue gaze back up – hands back to gliding over her calves, the backs of her knees. 

“It would be kind.” He said as if that meant something. 

Cordelia lifted her chin. “How well can you do it, on your own?” 

“So well.” He knew it wouldn’t be enough. That the spit would dry quickly and it will still hurt like hell. But something about that made his stomach flip with excitement. She could see the light behind his eyes, shining so that they were bluer than before. “With your permission, of course.” 

She reached out and grabbed his hair, again, gripping it tight and pressing against the back of his skull. He made a little sound in his throat as she pulled his head forward, pushing the head of the toy against his mouth.

“Go ahead, then.” She said. “Do it.” 

He opened his mouth – only a little bit, at first, teasing her by dragging his tongue up the round head. He treated it like a real cock, stroking the sides and underneath, nuzzling with the tip of his nose. She gripped his hair tighter, and he made that little sound again – opening his mouth wider. He took in the head, sucking on it, swirling his tongue around it before working his way down. Silicone was thicker than any real cock he had handled, and it stretched his mouth open until his jaw ached and it felt like the corners were being ripped apart. Langdon closed his eyes, pushing against her hand enough to move his own head up and down the silicone cock. He coated it as much as he could, sparing nothing. He rested his hands against her thighs, circulating his breathing steady through his nose so that he could put his full concentration on the task. Even though she could not feel much, the motion of his head and from his tongue pushed against the toy and Cordelia could still feel it rubbing up against her – even through her underwear, it was already more pleasing than she had expected. 

Eventually, she pulled back on his scalp; that was enough, and they needed to get this over-with. He gasped, a spider’s thread of spittle trailing down his shiny lip, swollen and red from the activity. She pressed her hand against his forehead and shoved him back, and he took it a step further, twisting around for her as he fell back, slamming his palms against the ground and then bringing up his knees. He turned around completely, baring his ass to her, spreading his thighs wide for her like a good boy and then bowing his back until his face was pressed to the cold floor. 

Cordelia’s breath hitched. Of course, it wasn’t as though she had no idea what she was doing. She had pegged Hank a few times, but it wasn’t something he had been into. This boy was different. He was eager. Offering. She sank down to her knees behind him, placing her hands on his narrow hips. He was not as bony as she had anticipated him feeling – he was soft, supple to the touch. He felt, she could only think of a word Myrtle may apply to a human being – _expensive_.

Cordelia pressed the head of the toy up against Langdon’s entrance, applying enough pressure so that he could just feel himself start to spread. She took a deep breath, and then she pressed a little closer – feeling him start to give way. She gripped his hips tightly, keeping the pressure steady, pushing forward until he let out a little cry and his back arched further. Yes, it hurt. Yes, it burned. Yes, yes, every glorious, firm, thick inch… 

She rolled her hips, allowing a small thrust. He yelped, a little sound from the depths of his throat. She felt a rush of exhilaration and rolled her hips again, leaning over his back and pushing deeper. He made another sound – louder than the last, and his whole body shivered as he pushed his ass back against her. She kept sliding until she was most of the way inside, and there it seemed to stop – his sphincter clenching and his whole body tensed, as if she wanted to go any deeper she was going to have to rip him open. 

Cordelia started to pull her hips back, the toy cock moving back just a little. He hissed and his fingers curled against the floor. She pulled back only a little further before shoving herself inside, again. This time, she made certain she buried herself hilt-deep, and she felt him writhe around her – hissing and moaning and dragging his nails against the floor. Back, further back, and then deep again – another thrust. She started settling into a rhythm, until her hips were crashing into his ass – and the only sounds that could be heard over the popping of the fire were his own yelps, moans, and soft pleas sliding off his tongue, escaping on his breath without his leave. 

Cordelia reached underneath the boy – sliding her fingers between his legs and skating them up the insides of thighs. Her own neatly clipped nails dragged over the sensitive skin and he gasped, thighs shaking with the sensation. Her hand found his cock, erect and throbbing between his legs. She grasped it, the silky foreskin gliding with the motion of her fingers as she began to stroke him – working him up more and more as she continued to fuck him, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 

His world was a daze. Inky spots were beginning to appear on his vision, blotting everything else out except for the pain, except for the trickle of blood down his thighs that was making everything slick and hot. He wanted more of it. He wanted her to tear him apart until he was covered in blood and sliding across the floor with every thrust. She didn’t have it in her. But she wasn’t doing such a bad job. If nothing else, he was close. He was so very close…

“Are you going to beg for it?” He really loved how she kept her voice so even. So cold. Hell. The fucking Supreme bitch. 

“No. Yes!” He moaned as she thrust again. Each roll of her hips felt like it tore him open another half inch. He couldn’t tell how much he was bleeding – he knew it was more than many would like, and not as much as he wanted. 

“Are you going to orgasm without permission?” She asked. 

“No! Never.” He ground his teeth. Oh, he wanted to be good. The pain made him want to be such a good boy…

“Then beg. Beg to be allowed.” 

“Please!” He had to force the words out, hoping they emerged strong – but it was a whimper. A helpless, pained little sound. “Please, I want to. I want to cum. Please, fuck…!” 

Her hands were stroking his cock, faster and faster – expert in their motions, he could feel it building up. It ached at the very base, and it rocketed all the way up to his head – every inch throbbing and needy. He was so close, so close, he could feel it tightening in his abdomen, he was going to…

Cordelia pulled her hand away. Langdon made an unhappy growl and collapsed against the floor, his whole body shaking – beads of sweat gathering on his flawless honey skin.

“You did not earn it,” she said coolly. “And we are going to keep going until you do.” 

He made another frustrated sound, reaching up with one trembling hand to rub his face. Damn her, damn the other one too, she could not do this to him, she…! 

She gripped his hair again, shoving his face down against the floor – nearly busting his nose wide open with the force of her hand. 

“Have I made myself clear?” She demanded. Langdon nodded fervently, as best he could.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, yes.” 

“I’m going to do it again.”

Yes, yes. Fuck. “Please.” 

“You won’t cum until I say so.” 

“No, never.” 

“All right, then.” She reached underneath him, smacking his cock with the flat of her palm. He lifted his ass back in the air, his cock aching beautifully with wretched, wretched need. 

“Keep steady,” she said. “And this time if you cry out, we are doing something else, and you may not get to release at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look, it just doesn't make sense and it doesn't have to.


End file.
